(GK: Garrison Keillor, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith, TR: Tim Russell, DK: Diana Krall)
Hush little baby, don't say a word,
Papa's gonna take you to West Forty-third
We've got seats, the very best,
For a radio show from the middle West,
But if that show gets too refined
Or the people too tall who we sit behind
Or if the jokes don't make you smile
Papa's gonna take you to the Carlisle
And if you don't like leatherette,
Papa's gonna take you to the Met
And if the opera is inapropos
Papa's gonna take you to a fashion show
And if those models do not slink,
Papa's gonna take you to the Wollman Rink
And if you're scared and stiffen your knees
Papa's gonna take you to Tiffany's
And if the prices fill you with gloom
Papa's gonna take you to the Rainbow Room
And if that glitter is much too swell
I'll take you to the Central Park carousel
And if that carousel should jam,
Papa's gonna take you over to BAM
And if you're tired of the avant-garde
Papa's gonna take you to Sandra Bernhard
And if her repartee is not that witty,
I'll take you to the Christmas show at Radio City
And if the costumes are too decrepit,
Papa's gonna take you to the USS Intrepid.
And if that boat doesn't float your canoe
Papa's gonna take you to the Central Park Zoo,
And if their primates aren't so prime
Papa's gonna take you to the Guggenheim,
And if Picasso you just can't face
Papa's gonna take you down to Astor Place
And if those punks are not bizarre
Papa's gonna take you to the Oyster Bar
And if those oysters are way too small
Papa's gonna take you to Carnegie Hall
And if Beethoven can't keep you awake,
Papa's gonna take you to see Swan Lake
And if those swans turn out to be geese
Papa's gonna take you to Lutece
And if their soup has too many cooks
Papa's gonna take you to Gotham Books
And if their clerks give you the snub,
Papa's gonna take you to Michael's Pub
And if Woody Allen seems edgy and wary,
Papa's gonna take you on the Staten Island Ferry
And if the ferry should blow its stacks
Papa's gonna take you to the Sony IMAX
And if that movie is a bomb
Papa's gonna take you to hear Gil Shaham
And if Gil Shaham should bust a string
Papa's gonna take you to Lion King
And if that King has lost its splendor
I'll take you to the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center,
And if the lights are not so bright
And you don't care for "Silent Night"
And if the decorations aren't fancy enough,
We'll go to the hotel and pack our stuff
And I'll take my baby with her elegant taste
And head on home to the frozen waste.
Where there is no Zabar's, no Balducci's
Selling sixteen kinds of blue cheese -
There is no opera and no ballet,
Just snow to shovel every day,
And nothing much is that surprisin'
And you can see from here straight to the horizon
So hush little baby and do not shout,
And we'll stay in New York 'til the money runs out.
(c) 1998 by Garrison Keillor